But a week or more passed and Tom had no clew. In the meanwhile
he was working away at his motor-boat, installing several
improvements.

One of these was a better pump, which circulated the water around
the cylinders, and another was a new system of lubrication under
forced feed.

"This ought to give me a little more speed," reasoned Tom, who was
not yet satisfied with his craft. "Guess I'll take it out for a
spin."

He was alone in the ARROW, taking a long course up the lake when,
as he passed a wooded point that concealed from view a sort of
bay, he heard the puffing of another motor-boat.

"Maybe that's Mr. Hastings," thought Tom. "If I raced with him
now, I think the ARROW could give a better account of herself."

The young inventor looked at the boat as it came into view. It
needed but a glance to show that it was not the CARLOPA. Then, as
it came nearer, Tom saw a familiar figure in it--a red-haired,
squint-eyed chap.

"Andy Foger!" exclaimed Tom. "He's got a motor-boat! This is the
surprise he spoke of."

The boat was rapidly approaching him, and he saw that it was
painted a vivid red. Then he could make out the name on the bow,